


In Her Majesty's Service

by DragonDancer5150



Category: Mystery Case Files (Video Games)
Genre: Drama, Gen, POV Male Character, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonDancer5150/pseuds/DragonDancer5150
Summary: In the wake of his case in Dire Grove, the Master Detective is approached about upgrading his "honorary" position with the Royal Agency to an official one. With a twist. Semi-spoilers for the bonus chapter of Ravenhearst Unlocked re: MCF’s origins. COMPLETE





	1. Pretense

**Author's Note:**

> If you really take the entire canon through all 15 games to date (Huntsville to Black Veil), there are some seeming inconsistencies and incongruities. This and some subsequent fics I plan to write are my attempts to spackle and explain the holes and buckles in canon. In this one, I wanted to explore my vision of how the detective went from being an American agent investigating "normal", if eccentric, crimes (I'm assuming MCF "today" is American, from the series' roots in Huntsville and Prime Suspects) to serving the queen of England for paranormal cases. 
> 
> Canonically, the Master Detective's gender is not known for sure, though general fandom seems to have set him/her as being female. For myself, however, I have always viewed the POV character as male, and it is from that perspective that I write.
> 
> Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

"With the artifacts of Dire Grove now safely locked away, we may begin to reassess our understanding, not only of the ancient Celtic people, but of all civilizations. Might it not be wise to look upon the tales of earlier ages with a new curiosity?"

The young woman at the podium smiled when the audience in the packed auditorium erupted in a standing ovation. As the applause died down, someone near the front spoke up.

"Doctor Sterling, much has been discussed of your experience, yet you only briefly described the individual responsible for saving you and your friends. Can you reveal the identity of this Good Samaritan?"

Doctor Sterling’s smile turned enigmatic as she glanced at someone standing against the back wall of the auditorium before focusing on the questioner once more. "That person has asked to remain nameless, but I can give you their business card." She held it up proudly.

The person against the back wall, a young man in his mid-twenties, nodded in approval. The card had no individually-identifying information on it. It was a generic card for an American federal investigative agency called Mystery Case Files. He should know. He was the one who gave it to her. He pushed off the wall, murmuring under his breath. “Congratulations, Alison. And Susan, Jack, Matt – take care of yourselves.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, the detective turned for the doors, only to find his way blocked by a pair of police constables flanking a man in a peacoat and deerstalker cap.

“Darnell Barrett?” The man looked to be in his late thirties to early forties with sandy blond hair and dark eyes.

Darnell felt himself tense, frowning. Only Alison Sterling and her friends knew he was here, let alone his name. “Yes. And you, sir?”

“I need you to come with me, please.”

The man held up a badge that identified him as being with the Royal Security Service, an agency that roughly equated with the FBI of the United States. Darnell recognized it in no small part from having been made an honorary member of its sister agency, the Royal Secret Service – Britain’s analog of the CIA – last year after solving the mystery of Ravenhearst Manor up in Blackpool. _The first mystery_ , the detective silently corrected himself. Aloud, he asked, “Is there a problem, sir?”

Agent Peacoat – since the man had not deigned to share his name – glanced meaningfully around the auditorium. “I think this is something you don't want to discuss here, since you did request to remain nameless as Doctor Sterling said.”

Darnell’s frown deepened, and he looked behind him as the Q&A continued. Both agents were keeping their voices down, but just the sight of the two bobbies had already started drawing curious looks from people in the back rows. Darnell didn’t like it, but Peacoat had a point. He turned back to the agent with a nod and gestured for him to lead on, shifting to follow.

Peacoat headed them out through the lobby and down the stairs to the street where a black car with dark windows and British government license plates waited at the curb. The driver opened the back door for them, and Peacoat gestured for Darnell to get in. The detective slid across the seats to the other side, making room. Once both agents were settled, the constables took their leave, and the car pulled away from Strayer University, merging into London's traffic.

“May I ask where you’re taking me?”

“That’s classified.” The answer came quickly and easily, almost too much so, as if it were a reflexive response.

Darnell arched a brow at the older man. “It’s just you, me, and him in this car.” He nodded to indicate the driver. “I’d hope he already knows where we’re going, and I’m going to know as soon as we pull up to it. Or am I going to be adding a snazzy blindfold to my styling accessories before we get there?” He indicated his attire - a worn trench coat, a scarf that had seen better days, and leather gloves with the seam of one finger that had torn open - he did that when he slipped on ice and caught himself on ragged wood in the collapsing farmer's house outside of Dire Grove. He’d lost his fedora in the blowing wind and piling snow and had already resolved to replace it as soon as he got back stateside. In his defense, he’d just worked three difficult cases back-to-back with no real downtime to speak of. Struggling for hours through conditions that rivaled Antarctica’s climate only a few days ago had done him no favors either.

At the question, Peacoat cracked a small grin, glancing at him. Well, it seemed he’d won at least one point with the man. “No, no blindfold needed.” The agent shifted to study him. “You asked Doctor Sterling not to give your name in her presentation. Why? If things truly happened as she described them, you saved the whole of England, possibly the whole world. I’d say that warrants some recognition. Wouldn’t you?”

Darnell grimaced and turned to look out the window at the passing buildings and all the people going about their daily lives. “That’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t need that kind of attention and the celebrity it’d bring. All I did was try to survive the worsening environment I’d been stranded in. And I did my job. I’d stumbled on a case of sorts, evidence of four people who’d also freeze to death if I couldn’t find them. It was only through the course of things that I realized the investigation was far more than a missing persons case.”

“If the reports are to be believed, you persevered and succeeded at an incredibly complicated and unbelievable task, in conditions where most anyone else would have given up or otherwise failed.”

Darnell shrugged. “It’s not like I had much choice, not if I wanted to survive. Besides, it needed to be done, and I was the only one who could do it.” He frowned as he realized how that sounded. “I mean, anyone could; I'm not special like that. Just that I was the only one there to do it, the only one still free from-“ He caught himself. Alison’s account of what had happened hadn’t been a one-hundred-percent accurate tell-all. Few would believe to quite that degree. “Free to act,” he finally finished.

“Free from The Ice Lady’s influence,” Peacoat stated quietly, speaking the words Darnell had not.

The detective looked at him, trying to figure out how much the agent knew. And believed.

All of it, if he had to guess. The guy was MI5, after all. Whether or not he believed it all, he probably at least knew it all.

“Speaking of names, you still haven’t told me yours.” Darnell managed not to grin at the faint wince that crossed the man’s face, a clear ‘oh, I didn’t, did I?’ flickering in his eyes.

Peacoat offered out his hand. “Sorry. Officer Thomas Blackwell at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Officer Blackwell.” Darnell easily accepted the hand in a firm shake.

Blackwell nodded. “Do you go by ‘Agent Barrett’ or ‘Master Detective Barrett’? I’ve heard that Mystery Case Files lets their detectives call themselves ‘master’.” The statement tilted up phonically at the end to make it more of a question.

Darnell grinned, feeling a little self-conscious at the question. “As a United States federal investigator, I'm a special agent. In the hierarchy of my particular agency, my title and pay grade is that of ‘master detective,’ and it's how both Payroll and HR list me . . . but ‘agent’ or even ‘special agent’ is less of a mouthful and sounds a lot less pretentious to people who don’t already know MCF’s structure.”

Blackwell gave him a small grin in return. “Right, you don’t strike me as the pretentious type, mate.”

“Nope. Or anyway, I try not to be.” Darnell glanced forward out the windshield just then and felt his breath stick in his throat at the sight of the building the vehicle approached. _Speaking of pretentious…_ “Whoa, wait. That’s…isn’t that…?” In his astonishment, he couldn’t even finish the question.

Blackwell nodded, amused. “Buckingham Palace, yes. There’s someone who’d like to speak with you,” he added before Darnell could voice his next question – what in the world they were doing there.

“Are foreigners even allowed in there?” Darnell had grown up in California before moving to Texas to join the rest of his family after college and score a prestigious internship, then full employment, with the Houston-based investigative agency. Never in his life would he have thought he’d even view the home of Great Britain’s royal family in person, let alone visit it.

Blackwell just chuckled.


	2. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who knows more about Buckingham's layout and operations than I do. I didn't want to spend so much time trying to research them that I took away from the story. If necessary, consider this version of the palace as fictionalized as its monarchy. See end of next chapter for more on that.
> 
> Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

The car was let through the gates without question when both Blackwell and the driver showed their badges. The driver pulled around out of sight of the front and into a garage at the rear of the building. From there, Blackwell led him into the building proper where they were met by a butler or steward or . . . Darnell wasn’t really sure. The man wasn’t introduced to them. It was just his job to get them where they were to go.

The detective looked around at everything as they walked down hallways and past numerous doors, hoping he wasn’t gaping as much as he felt like he was. This wasn’t an area for dignitaries, to be sure, but it was far too nice for servants’ areas in Darnell’s estimation. Finally, they were left in a parlor that was probably “modest” by Buckingham’s standards but bigger than Darnell’s entire apartment back home and furnished with exquisite Old World taste. Darnell and Blackwell surrendered their coats, leaving the officer in a tailored business suit and the detective in jeans and a button-up shirt. In Darnell's defense, he'd been on vacation when all this began.

Darnell turned to Blackwell as their guide saw himself back out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Who are we here to see exactly?”

Blackwell offered a wry grin. “Not sure you’d believe me if I told you, mate. But she’s been a bit of a fan of yours for a while now, following your career since Capital City.”

Darnell frowned. “My career?” He’d only been with Mystery Case Files for two years and had joined straight out of college. The case in Capital City, New York, had been early last year when he’d helped in the recovery of a rare blue diamond which had been stolen from an imminent gem show. The diamond had been on loan from the private collection of Britain’s royal family. He’d attracted the attention of England’s queen herself with that case, who had then gone on to ask him personally – via letter typed on official stationary (‘Yes, really.’) – to check out the mystery surrounding an old house on the edge of Blackpool in northern England, one that had stumped other agents. _Including Blackwell_? he wondered.

The door opened again just then, two men stepping in to join Darnell and Blackwell. One was of a tall, slender build and African descent - black hair, broad nose, dark skin and eyes - the other stocky, Caucasian, and bald. Both wore expensive business suits.  Darnell stiffened in surprise at recognizing the stocky gentleman – it was his boss’s boss, Timothy Fanzone, the chief inspector who headed the entire Mystery Case Files agency. What in the world was he doing here!? “Inspector Fanzone?”

Blackwell nodded at the other man. “Director Simmons.”

Simmons nodded acknowledgement and turned to Darnell, offering his hand. “Director General Harold Simmons, head of MI5, the Royal Agency.”

Darnell resisted the urge to check his palm for sweat before shaking the Englishman’s hand. This guy was WAY over his paygrade as someone he’d ever hope to deal with. “Special Agent Darnell Barrett, master detective, sir. Pleased to meet you.” He glanced between the director general and the chief inspector. “What’s going on? Why are we here? Has something happened?”

Fanzone, normally an aloof man, allowed a small, amused grin to show. “Barrett, you just saved an ally nation and possibly the world from some very adverse weather, to say the least. I’d say that’s something.”

“Ah . . . well, yes, sir, there’s that, but why here? At Buckingham Palace. Why not MI5 headquarters, for example.”

Simmons gave him a wry grin. “Because I’m not the one who called this little meeting, Master Detective Barrett.”

“Indeed not, my good gentlemen. That would be me.”

Darnell turned at the lilting, exaggerated voice and felt the blood drain from his face in sheer shock. He'd heard that voice once over the phone - only days ago, in fact, though it felt like far longer - but never expected to meet its owner face-to-face.

She was the spitting image of "little old lady," a woman in her late eighties with bright eyes and a warm smile under a full head of thick, silver curls. In her Sunday-best dress with matching pillbox hat, lacy half-veil, and dainty white gloves, she would have been right at home on the front of a vintage _Better Homes and Gardens_ , knitting or reading a Jackie Kennedy biography. Darnell had seen the woman on plenty of magazine covers, to be sure, but they ran more in the lines of _TIME_ and _Newsweek_. She leaned delicately on the arm of a portly man in a fine suit, another woman flanking her on the other side.

Needlessly but for the sake of decorum, the portly escort announced her arrival. "Presenting Her Majesty, Alexandra the First, Queen of the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Also presenting Princess Mary, Princess Royal."

Princess Mary, a woman perhaps in her sixties, studied Darnell with a sharp, appraising eye. With her auburn hair pulled back in a bun, her no-nonsense, dark business dress, and her matching demeanor, she was a stark contrast to her mother.

"Your Highnesses." Simmons bowed smoothly, as did Fanzone and Blackwell. Darnell followed suit, hoping he didn't look half as awkward as he felt.

At the same time, Queen Alexandra was swatting at her escort's arm. "Oh, George, none of that now. This isn't a stuffy state dinner."

George gave her a grin, at once fond and mildly exasperated. "Yes, ma'am."

Queen Alexandra turned to the group of agents. "Gentlemen, please, as you were." She motioned for them to straighten, then focused on Darnell, her grin widening as she crossed to him. "You, my fine young man, must be my clever conqueror of puzzles." She looked him over, and suddenly he was keenly embarrassed for how underdressed he was, even given his situation. His only saving grace was that he was clean - he'd shaved that morning, his shirt was tucked in smoothly, he had a belt on, and his sneakers were devoid of scuffs or tears. She clucked her tongue. "Master Detective Darnell Barrett. I ought to chastise you for not getting a report to me yet concerning your return to Ravenhearst, but considering the circumstances, I think that oversight can be forgiven." The twinkle in her eye assured him that she wasn't serious about the slight. Then her tone shifted to one of concern. "Were you able to deal with that dreadful monster, Charles?"

"Um . . . thank you, Your Majesty. And yes, I believe so." _I hope so, anyway_ , Darnell thought. _I really, really hope so._

Simmons gave him a wry grin. "She doesn't bite, detective."

The queen arched a brow at him. "Are you quite sure of that, Harold?"

Simmons looked visibly surprised, but then he settled into a faint smirk. "As our American brothers would say, 'I plead the Fifth.'"

Darnell pressed his lips to hide a grin. _It's really strange to hear that in a British accent._

Princess Mary finally stepped forward, gesturing at the circle of sofas. "Gentlemen, shall we get to the reason you are all here?"

The group settled, George accepting a tray of pastries from a servant at the door to set on the low table in their midst before serving everyone drinks. Alcoholic, Darnell was surprised to note. When Fanzone requested whiskey, Darnell did the same and was given the finest scotch he'd ever had. _Wow, I could get used to this._

Queen Alexandra sipped at a sherry, studying the two Americans. "Chief Inspector, how much do you know of the history of your agency?"

Darnell looked at her again at that. Up until now, she'd sounded like she did when he'd called her from that payphone at the edge of Fate's Carnival, which he could only describe as "exaggeratedly British royal". But suddenly, she'd taken on a much more serious tone.

Fanzone shrugged nonchalantly. If he'd noticed the shift, he didn't let on. "I know that despite being an American outfit now, Mystery Case Files actually has its roots in England. It went defunct around the same time that the New World was being settled in earnest. Our founders were among those who'd once been British MCF operatives. It's why we use a British model of police ranking. 'Chief Inspector' - " He motioned to himself, then to Darnell. " - and 'Master Detective' most obviously."

"Indeed. I am sorry to say that the fall of MCF as a British agency was due to shortsightedness on behalf of some of my predecessors who no longer saw the need for such a position. Thankfully for us all, that view has never been challenged . . . until now." Queen Alexandra's attention shifted from Fanzone to Darnell. "Do you know the original purpose and meaning of your rank, Master Detective?"

Darnell couldn't imagine it to be anything but what he knew it to be - a federal agent tasked with the solving of crimes too puzzling for other agencies. That factor had been what had drawn the challenge-loving Criminal Justice graduate to MCF versus other agencies such as the police or the FBI. From the scrutinizing way the queen was looking at him, however, he knew there must be far more to the story. "No, Your Majesty, apparently not."

Queen Alexandra sat back, amused as she waved off the honorific. "Just 'ma'am' is fine, dear. Yes, really," she added at what must have been a look of surprise on his face. "We're all informal here, after all." She set down her drink and folded her hands in her lap. “Mystery Case Files has, in fact, quite a long history. Roughly five hundred years. It was formed during the time of the House of Tudor, and its express purpose was the investigation and eradication of dark forces that threatened the kingdom. It had its own contingent of soldiers who served and protected the agency’s spearhead in the field – the Master Detective. The very first Master Detective was Ellen Hornebolt. She had been tasked with traveling the realm, confiscating any items of power that she came across and arresting practitioners of dark magic before they could do harm. There are no records of what became of her, except that she was known to be lost up in the north somewhere along the Irish Sea.” A small, mirthless grin tugged at the queen’s lips. “Most likely in the general vicinity of Blackpool. Coincidence?”

Princess Mary spoke up, taking over as she looked each man in the eye in turn, settling finally on Darnell. “In light of recent events, both in Blackpool and in Dire Grove, and other minor incidents that our excellent officers and operatives of the Royal Security Service have worked so diligently to keep out of the media and public’s attention - ” She gestured at Simmons and Blackwell, who nodded acknowledgment. “ - we believe that it is high time to resurrect the position. Mystery Case Files is now an American agency, and we respect that. This new position would be that of ‘Master Detective in Service to the Queen’.”

“And,” Queen Alexandra added, “we desire for you to fill that role, Master Detective Barrett.”

**********************************************************************************

Fun Facts: Game #10 "Fate's Carnival" starts off with the Master Detective driving and on the phone with the gentleman, presumably his boss, who has sent him on that assignment. According to the end credits, the character, "Lead Detective," was voiced by Tim Simmons. I named both the chief inspector and director general as a nod to him. Inspector Fanzone owes his last name to my love of "Transformers Animated" and the police captain Carmine Fanzone. I'm also a fan of NCIS, so I drew the two agency heads' personalities from NCIS director Leon Vance. Alexandra and Mary are both named in honor of the real-life current queen. See the notes at end of Chp 3 for more on them.


	3. Aegis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

Darnell felt gut-punched at the declaration. “M-me!?”

Fanzone apparently hadn’t known about this either. “Barrett?”

Darnell glanced at their British counterparts. Simmons seemed unfazed, though if he truly were or just putting up a good front, the detective couldn’t begin to guess. Blackwell was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

Princess Mary nodded, shifting her attention to Fanzone. “Yes, as he already has some experience in such things. He has also proven himself clever, resourceful, capable of operating alone, determined to see a thing through to the end, able to face extraordinary odds and even more extraordinary, unnatural forces, and keep his head doing so . . . all qualities that we need in our Master Detective.”

Fanzone was frowning. “Ma’am, Barrett’s not a British citizen. He’s an American.”

Darnell hid a grin behind his scotch in spite of the seriousness – and because of the absurdity – of the talk. _Thank you, Captain Obvious._

“And a federal agent at that. You can’t just claim him at your whim. Besides, he doesn’t have the authority to operate in an official capacity except on American soil. Last year was a special case. This time, he was supposed to only be here on vacation.” And the look Fanzone cut Darnell at that told the detective that they’d be discussing this whole little jaunt very soon. Darnell resisted the urge to sink down into his chair like a preteen caught with cigarettes.

Princess Mary gave Fanzone an arched look. “If Agent Barrett does not personally have such authority at present, I’m sure that could be remedied easily enough. After all, your entire CIA organization is made up of federal agents operating with American authority on foreign soil . . . whether they’re welcome by their host countries to do so or not. In this case, Agent Barrett would be quite welcome.”

“This would not – I should hope this would not!” Queen Alexandra asserted, “be a full-time job. We wish merely to be able to call upon his services as a need arises. Consider it an attaché position, of sorts, with the Royal Security Service.”

Fanzone seemed to consider it, then looked at Darnell. “Barrett?”

Darnell swallowed and set down the tumbler of scotch to hide the mild tremor in his hand as the monumental reality started to settle in. He was being offered a position – part-time but still a position – by the queen of England. He was being offered a position of direct service to _the queen of England_. He swallowed again, praying his voice was steady when he spoke. “I’m…I’m honored by the offer, and by the confidence in me.” He drew a deep breath and nodded. “I’d want time to think about it - and more details, of course - but I’m open to the consideration.”

Fanzone studied him a moment, then nodded and turned back to the queen. “I’ll have to talk to the DNI about this, but if he’s willing to work something with the Royal Agency - ” He nodded at Simmons. “ – then I don’t have a problem with this.” He shook his head, his look incredulous. “A week ago, I’d have laughed this whole thing off, but after that storm, now that we've confirmed the cause of it, I can’t say that I argue with your line of thinking, ma’am.”

Queen Alexandra grinned, visibly pleased. “Good. Now then, gentlemen…” She stood, Princess Mary and the men following suit as George stepped forward to offer his arm once more. “Mary and I have another meeting to attend. Please excuse us.” To Fanzone and Simmons, she added, “I look forward to discussing this matter with you further. I think we will find it beneficial to all.” She cast Darnell a last, quick smile, then departed, Princess Mary trailing.

There was a moment of silence after the door had closed before Blackwell murmured, “She brought the princess with her.”

Simmons nodded, a frown of concern on his face. “I think it’ll be sooner than we were estimating.”

“What will?” Darnell wanted to know.

Fanzone gave him a look that hinted he shouldn’t have asked – it wasn’t his business – but the director general seemed not to share the sentiment. “This does not leave this room until an official announcement is made, but . . . the queen’s health is failing. She does well to hide it for now, but we believe it won’t be much longer. She’ll abdicate the throne soon. When she does, Princess Mary will replace her as queen.”

“The princess has already taken over many of the queen’s duties,” Blackwell added.

Darnell frowned, gaze shifting to the door. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. About the queen’s health, I mean.”

Simmons nodded, then looked at him and Fanzone. "The Royal Agency will cover your hotel rooms until this matter is worked out. Blackwell, see to Agent Barrett's accommodations as I believe he doesn't currently have any." He gave Darnell a questioning look to confirm.

Darnell shook his head, glad for the offer because he'd been staying with Matt and Jack in their dorm room for the last few days, helping Alison fill in the details of what all had happened in Dire Grove for her presentation in return for helping him keep a low profile. Being about the same age as the graduate students, he'd managed to pass himself off as belonging there, but he'd parted ways with Alison and her friends right before the presentation, intent on slipping out at the end of it and finally getting a hotel room himself. His original itinerary had him out in Wales by now, and his flight home wasn't for another three days.

"Now, sir?" Blackwell was saying.

"Yes. Chief Inspector Fanzone and I have a few things to discuss.”

Darnell offered his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Director General.”

Simmons took his hand in a firm grip. “The pleasure’s mine, Agent Barrett.” Darnell and Blackwell started for the door, but Simmons speaking up again stopped them. “Barrett! Before you go, I’ve been meaning to ask – how did you get that private number into Buckingham Palace? Did the queen give it to you?”

“Uh…” Darnell ran a hand through his hair. Wow, how exactly did he explain that? “Have you ever heard of Fate’s Carnival?”

**********************************************************************************

NOTE: Though never seen, the queen of England _is_ a known character in the games, sometimes communicating with the Master Detective either via letter or over the phone. In the early games, the queen sounds and writes almost like a caricature of British royalty, kind of exaggerated in speech and signing with things like “The Queen (yes, really)”. XD Later games are not just a change of voice actress but character portrayal - she's much more poised and serious both in tone and letter. So my headcanon is that, somewhere about mid-series of the games, there was a change, the old queen stepping down and her daughter taking the throne, so there have in fact been two different people Darnell's dealt with. I stayed away from reality and came up with fictional characters.


	4. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

Darnell shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping the towel around his hips to head into the main area of the hotel room. It had been almost a week now since he’d nearly frozen to death in Dire Grove, but he would be grateful for hot water for the rest of his life because of it.

He thought about his new assignment. And that he should let his family know. He wasn’t married, so that made things easier, at least. It was midnight, which made it six p.m. back home in Houston. He picked up his cell phone – his “mobile”, as the British called it (he was learning a lot of new British vocabulary thanks to Thomas) – and sent a text. “ _hey sis, can u get on skype?_ ”

He was brushing his teeth when his phone sounded a text alert five minutes later. “ _now? sure whats up? u ok?_ ”

“ _yeah, im fine. got news. good news. wanna talk in person_.” He grinned, shaking his head at himself, and added, “ _face2face_ ”

“ _ok b there in 10_ ”

Darnell finished getting ready for bed, then threw on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt and set up his crime computer. The specialized laptop was standard issue for MCF field agents but also unique to the agency. It wasn’t, however, really designed to run something like Skype, but Darnell had managed to get the software to work anyway. It helped that he was buddies with some of the guys in the IT department, too.

Soon, the line went live to a woman in her late twenties with heart-shaped features. Like him, his sister Catherine had their father’s olive skin and dark brown hair, nearly black. They also shared their mother’s golden brown eyes.

“Hey, Baby Bro! What’s up? Did you get caught in that massive, freak icestorm they had over there, or were you in Wales by then?” Despite the lightness in her tone, it was evident that she’d been worried.

Darnell felt bad for not contacting her sooner to let her and their stepdad know that he was all right. He hesitated, though, not sure yet how much he could reveal on the incident – he needed to talk to Simmons. “Yeah, I got caught in it, but I’m fine. Hey, Cathy, did I send you photos of the Silver Streak I’ve been renting?”

Cathy laughed. “Yeah. That is the most British car I think I have ever seen.”

“Yup, it kind of is,” Darnell agreed with a snicker. ”I really like it, though. I’m thinking of buying one.”

“Yeah? Do they come in a left-driving option? Or whatever you’d call that. Drivable in the States?”

“I, uh, I wouldn’t be driving it in the States.”

She blinked in surprise. “No?”

Darnell shook his head. “I’ve been offered a position as a foreign attaché to the Royal Security Service – think FBI – in a division that at least occasionally serves the royal family directly.”

“Whoa, really? Like the mystery of that old mansion you solved last year?”

“Something like that. And whatever else they decide to send me out on.”

“Nothing too dangerous, I hope.” She caught herself in her concern and sat back, putting on a smirk. “I mean, c’mon, gotta look out for my little brother. Even if he is a Fed.”

Darnell thought about the specter he’d fled – Charles Dalimar – from Fate’s Carnival, then facing the monstrous lunatic and his horrible son at Ravenhearst, and everything he went through in Dire Grove. Shoving it all to the back of his mind, he put on a grin of his own. “Probably nothing too dangerous. And I’ll be home three months of the year. It has to do with income tax laws – ours, not the Brits’, since I’ll still technically be an employee of MCF. I’ve been offered three months stateside, and I asked for June, July, August so I can be home when the kids are out of school. The rest of the time, I’ll live here in London. Thomas is going to help me find an apartment while I’m stateside packing.”

“Thomas?”

“Sorry. Officer Thomas Blackwell. He’ll be my . . . they call them agent handlers here. Kind of like my supervisor back home. Agents aren’t direct employees of the Royal Agency. They’re overseen by agent handlers. Thomas has been assigned to me as a sort of liaison as well as help me settle in over here in general.”

“Good.” Cathy paused, studying him. ”The kids are really going to miss their favorite uncle.”

Darnell grinned, though there was a bittersweet twinge to it. “I’ll really miss them too. And everyone. But that’s what Skype’s for, right? Anyway, listen, it’s almost twelve-thirty here, so I should go. My flight tomorrow’s at noon, and I should hit JFK about three their time. I think that’s two in Houston.”

“God, time zones and shit are weird.”

Darnell laughed. Partly because she was right – the flight was eight hours long but he’d land seemingly only three hours later by the local clocks – and partly to hear his sister cuss. Their stepdad had raised them to never cuss, something Darnell still held to out of respect. In contrast, both Cathy and their middle sister Linda had dropped that as soon as they’d moved out of the house. They were adults now; they could if they wanted. They did not, however, do so in front of their stepdad.

“Yeah, they really are. Anyway, I’m back out of New York at five-thirty and arrive at Ellington around eight, your time. I’ll call you when I get home so you know I got there okay.”

“You’ll get a cab home or something, right?”

“I’ve already got a pick-up with SuperShuttle. No, I’m not driving, not after all that. It’ll be something like three or four in the morning London time by then, I think.”

“Good. All right, well . . . you have a good night, Dell. Be safe, and we’ll see you in a few days.”

Darnell hid a mild grimace. Linda had been two-and-a-half, not quite three, and Cathy four, when Darnell was born, and she couldn’t pronounce his name. As much as he had always disliked it – he wasn’t a computer, thank you very much – the nickname had stuck. Rather than comment, though, he just nodded. “I will. I love you, Sis.”

“Love you too, Bro.”

**********************************************************************************

NOTE: The first time we see the Master Detective’s Silver Streak is in Dire Grove. "Madame Fate," "Return to Ravenhearst," and "Dire Grove" came out over a span of three years, but in-game, there’s probably only a week in there, tops, since each investigation would only have taken a matter of hours to maybe as much as a day each, I think, and it would have only taken him (or her – for simplicity, I’ll stick to “him”) a matter of hours to drive from one location to the next. And we know that he did go directly from one to the next in succession. Madame Fate was surprised to see the Master Detective when he first entered her tent, so she didn’t summon him there. And as an American agent only holding an “honorary” place with MI6 at the time, it’s unlikely he was in England on another assignment before stumbling on the carnival. So my headcanon is that he was originally in the country on vacation.

Admittedly, that doesn’t explain why his “rental” in "Dire Grove" has an MCF shield hood ornament and medallion in the center of the steering wheel. But it does explain why the car looks so nice with a beautiful dash, while the next time we see it, in "Escape from Ravenhearst," it’s suddenly “an old clunker” with a beat-to-hell dash. The fabric's badly torn up, and the clock has a bullet hole in it and is being held in place with a piece of gum. Headcanon is that's how he was able to afford to buy a 60+ year old classic automobile.


End file.
